The Sleepers Awake
by NativeMoon
Summary: Some years after the defeat of Voldemort, Severus Snape falls for a woman with a dark past of her own and must battle a greater threat than the Dark Lord. In the midst of this, he struggles with his own conflictedness and complexities.
1. The Crossroads

Plot and new characters are my intellectual property

**Plot and new characters are my intellectual property. JK Rowlings' characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. The musical and cinematic inspirations are from the French legends that are Mylène Farmer and Laurent Boutonnât. **

**Summary: **Some years after the defeat of Voldemort, Severus Snape falls for a woman with a dark past of her own and must battle a greater threat than the Dark Lord. In the midst of this, he struggles with his own conflictedness and the complexities between the persona he has so cleverly crafted, his own personal demons and who he really is. He must also face battles with Harry Potter and Remus Lupin, but for very different reasons

**The Sleepers Awake**

**By NativeMoon**

**Authors Notes: **_**REPOST: This is the fanfic that started it all. I discovered fanfiction when I become homeless a few years ago. Working on this got me through many a dark moment. Its an epic that wasn't finished – but its also the one that I think the most about and which still inspires me. Its still up at Fiction Alley under this same PenName and its time to work on it again here. Some things will change simply because I hope that I have improved as a writer in all this time.**_** Still, I hope my dear readers will like it 8).**

Chapter 1: The Crossroads

'Your problems are yours; I leave them with you,' she said quietly. To the amazement of her dinner companion, Erszhebet Bathory did not endure his latest vitriolic litany of complaints and accusations against her. She got up from the dinner table, collected her coat and left the stuffy, expensive restaurant which she had grown to loathe departing amidst a dignified silence.

More than one set of eyes followed her walk to the cloakroom. Hers was an imposing presence – just as she intended so that she could leave with her dignity intact. Living in a city of fashionistas was never easy when such preoccupations were not a part of one's character. However, Erszhebet always liked to look her best regardless of her circumstances and so she tended to look as though she spend more time and money than she actually did on herself even though she could have easily afforded to do so. She was 38, but did not look a day over 25. It was all in the genes with a healthy dose of luck, she would say whenever anyone complimented her. Despite this, she did not regard herself as particularly beautiful and was unaware of the charisma, for lack of a better word, that radiated from her innermost being.

'I have been so desperate for love', Erszhebet thought, 'that I have put up with anything and everything from someone who does not love me and does not _want_ to love me.'

To her surprise she felt no pain, no tears, no remorse at the realization that once again she was a loser in love; only a sense of relief that was a long time coming. For Patrick she was not beautiful enough, intelligent enough or even rich enough. With him, the mind games were plentiful; he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in throwing her innermost secrets revealed to him back at her; secrets which had been revealed to him from a point of absolute trust and love. But nothing she thought or did was ever right or enough.

As she made her way through the late night crowds on Central Park West to the Subway, Erszhebet contemplated her newfound freedom and all of the possibilities she previously denied herself which now lay before her. _'I won't make that mistake again – the next one will have to work hard to deserve me,' _she told herself. She had always been free; she simply denied the obvious until it was no longer possible to do so. It had always been like this for much of her adult life, these admonitions that 'next time' things would be different. And despite her best intentions it seemed that somehow she tended to end up as someone's doormat. Still she was convinced that love which was great and true should not bring so much pain. And if you really and truly loved, you didn't get over it in an instant. She believed that now more than ever.

Erszhebet stood on the platform and contemplated her life so far. She was never entirely happy in New York City, in spite of being a successful singer and songwriter. On the surface it would seem she had most of the things that one would want: she had a good career doing what she loved best, enough money invested wisely such that the routine of a 9 to 5 job was behind her and a comfortable loft in the West Village from which to base herself when she had to be in the city for work. She was always judged as one of those who 'had it all' by people who did not have a clue that material success and all the trappings that go with it will not erase emotional pain.

She took her seat on the subway car when it finally arrived and lost herself in her thoughts. She was grateful for her talent and success, as it had taken over 10 years to achieve what she had in a business not known these days for longevity in any sense of the word. This was particularly true for anyone above the age of 25. Her videos and live performances were the stuff of legend in some European markets, Asia and French-speaking Canada. Indeed, her videos were shown in cinemas long before anyone saw them on music television.

Erszhebet preferred her duplex in Paris, where her father had moved the family when she was a young girl from harsh winters of Quebec City. She had suffered a lot of pain in City of Light, but that did not mean she did not love it nonetheless. Despite this, she still had the sense that she had not found 'home' yet. America certainly was not home for her. She had no interest in 'cracking' America and to be honest, most of America would have no interest in her, as she did not sing in English. However, singing in English was not high on her list of things to do to the chagrin of her record company. But she had made them a lot of money writing and producing for others, and her musical instincts were spot on so they left her alone, for the most part, to just do her thing. 'If it's not broke don't try to fix it,' she scolded more than one hotshot trying to make a name for himself at her expense at the company.

Erszhebet was getting to the point where she needed to have her own studio, she thought, perhaps at her country place in the Loire. No, it should be someplace altogether different – a place to go and immerse herself fully in the act of creation. New York City served a purpose when she wanted 'a normal life' of total anonymity. But really, she had only spent as much time there as she did recently because of the 'Patrick situation' as she called it; though she would never admit it to anyone else. She had been determined to find something good in that liaison; he was not all bad surely. But, now she had to let him go. Mentally she had left him ages ago; now she had the courage to follow through.

Erszhebet was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to notice the man seated opposite her.

The man could not help but notice her especially due to the fact that she was obviously lost in a reverie. His long dark hair, which tended towards greasiness sometimes, was tied back underneath a black Fedora hat. His nose was rather prominent, but he was not unattractive. The stranger was dressed in black from head to toe; nothing unusual in New York City and certainly not in the Downtown arts circles Erszhebet moved in - when she chose.

The man had a malevolent look and feel about him, not a bad thing in mean streets of the Big Apple. You'd be a dunderhead to mess him, regardless of whether you valued your life or not. He did not suffer fools. Ever. Many had found that out to their detriment over the years_. 'Someone like that would never be interested in someone like me,' _he thought and not for the first time in his life. He tended to be quite loathsome. But this young woman; there was something exceptional about this young woman. He tried, but could not see inside her mind

'This is not right,' he thought to himself, 'This is not right at all.'

It should be impossible for him to not be able to pick up something, anything from her. He was quite captivated by her without a doubt, but that should not make a difference. So he was now faced with two very interesting, albeit highly disturbing dilemmas: Not only was he falling in love at first sight with someone he would never see again (and wanted to), but his advanced skills as a Legilimens clearly were no longer reliable.

It was very unnerving indeed.

He cursed under his breath. He once told someone that it was a skill not to be used haphazardly and certainly not for pleasure. 'This is different,' he told himself. He was not new to hypocrisy.

These dilemmas added to the intrigue.

He wanted to talk to her but what would he say? Whatever he said, it would come out all wrong.

His tendency towards sarcasm and dark moods had not won him any friends. He had colleagues and acquaintances. Only two he could say with any absolute certainty, albeit reluctantly, were perhaps friends. But his natural distrust meant that he was always pushing this to its limits. Sooner or later they were bound to disappoint him. Loyalty was not something he inspired.

For her part, Erszhebet was completely unaware that the man opposite her had attempted to 'get in her air space.'

'West Fawth Street!' screeched the conductor over the antiquated speaker system in a rather heavy NYC accent as the train approached the station, 'Stan cleahuhda daws'. Erszhebet, startled, stood up adjusting her shoulder bag and smoothing her raincoat. When she finally glanced at the man opposite her, it crossed her mind only briefly that he looked like a character straight out of 'The Matrix' films as she made her way to the nearest set of doors.

Erszhebet starting singing softly to herself; inspired by what had just happened in the restaurant and the truth of the situation between her and Patrick. She would have to work on this later, she thought. She did not care if anyone else heard her or what they thought about it. Moreover, this was New York City after all - no one takes any notice anyway. Nothing is more inspirational to an artist than affairs of the heart.

She leaned against the partition just by the right door. Her gaze wandered to the young couple making out further down the subway car oblivious to all around them. The young man was totally focused on the pleasure of his companion and his companion was responding in kind. New York being New York the fact that they were in public just made them even more uninhibited. 'Nothing like that would ever happen to someone like me,' she thought and not for the first time in her life.

She had not always been so pessimistic about love and relationships. Indeed, she'd had a love that was the stuff of which dreams were made of. She was lucky enough to have had it the once, she thought, most people never had it all in their lifetime. However, that was another time and she was a lot younger and different then. It was best to leave those memories in the shadows where they belonged.

The train came to a stop and she made her way off towards the stairs. To his surprise, the man in black jumped up impulsively - captivated by the haunting beauty and darkness of her impromptu song but was too late. 'Stancleahuhdaclosindaws!' boomed the conductor. The doors closed just as he reached them, needing to touch her, wanting her. The man could only stand at the doors watching her ascend the stairs, lost in thought.

'It's time for some changes, new experiences, a more authentic life,' Erszhebet thought to herself.

She broke suddenly from her reverie, feeling someone's supernatural attention directed at her, probing gently at her thoughts. The familiar dull ache asserted itself between her eyebrows and she impulsively rubbed at the spot. Erszhebet turned awkwardly on the stairs looking across the station platforms, her gaze falling fleetingly upon a thunderstruck Severus Snape, as a rush of her energy washing over him as he stood at the doors of the departing train.


	2. Her Dark Secrets

Plot and new characters are my intellectual property

**Plot and new characters are my intellectual property. JK Rowlings' characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. The musical and cinematic inspirations are from the French legends that are Mylène Farmer and Laurent Boutonnât. **

**Summary: **Some years after the defeat of Voldemort, Severus Snape falls for a woman with a dark past of her own and must battle a greater threat than the Dark Lord. In the midst of this, he struggles with his own conflictedness and the complexities between the persona he has so cleverly crafted, his own personal demons and who he really is. He must also face battles with Harry Potter and Remus Lupin, but for very different reasons

**The Sleepers Awake**

**By NativeMoon**

**Authors Notes: **_**REPOST: This is the fanfic that started it all. I discovered fanfiction when I become homeless a few years ago. Working on this got me through many a dark moment. Its an epic that wasn't finished – but its also the one that I think the most about and which still inspires me. Its still up at Fiction Alley under this same PenName and its time to work on it again here. Some things will change simply because I hope that I have improved as a writer in all this time.**_** Still, I hope my dear readers will like it 8).**

Chapter 2: Dark Secrets

Erszhebet struggled to consciousness from heavy sleep. The smell of rain wafted in through the floor-to-ceiling windows across from her bed, the trees outside casting moving shadows across the exposed brick walls of the room as they swayed in the breeze. She preferred days like this with its overcast sky and dark clouds with gently falling rain. It made New York City quieter, it seemed, and the usual frenetic vibe of the place slowed to a steady calm. This was especially good on a Saturday.

In a city that seemed bereft of green spaces and wildlife outside of Central Park she counted herself lucky for those trees. They were the main attraction when she found the loft. It was too easy to feel cut off from nature living day-to-day in the five boroughs and she did not like it. The second attraction was that at least in the Village one was not hemmed in and oppressed by skyscrapers blocking out the light and cutting off the air. Apart from the Trustafarians that invaded every summer, the Village was a not a bad place to be in this concrete jungle. They annoyed her; spoiled rich kids done up as Punks, Goths and blonde Rastas loitering around St. Mark's Place in the East Village mostly. begging for change on the street. They were not homeless and they were certainly not poor. They would be everywhere in the Village during the hot summer months only to vanish to Miami or LA in the winter. Of course, she had thought differently when she first came here over 10 years ago and could only afford a cold-water walk-up flat in an old tenement building that had definitely seen better days. Manhattan was expensive even then if you did not have a rent-controlled apartment.

Erszhebet lay on her right side, her arm crooked under the pillow beneath her head in the oversized brass bed looking out the window. She found herself meditating on the events of last night. 'It must have been the wine,' she said aloud to herself. She was not thinking about Patrick for a change; but about the sensation she had had of someone trying to get inside her head.

This was not the first time she had experienced this feeling. Without meaning to, she found herself thinking about her past.

* * *

_It had happened for the first time many years ago, when she was 9 years old, not long after her family had moved to Paris. She was the only girl of a family dominated by boys and the youngest of her parents' seven children. Having been an accident and unwanted she was also generally ignored. __'Bad enough to have a child I don't want – but a fucking useless girl' her father had sneered on many occasions. _

_A head-snapping blow from her mother usually accompanied his vitriolic sentiments. She would be punished for having offended him for some unknown reason – the most common that seemed to be that Erszhebet just existed and it was her fault that the family all felt as they did. Neither of her parents would raise their voices nor their fists to any of their boys. 'Things could always be worse', she would say to herself and then pray that they wouldn't be. She was biding her time until she could escape and take care of herself._

_The first time of the mind-tapping sensation was very significant for Erszhebet, as it coincided with the death of her oldest brother Didier who had also been her father's favorite. The official story was that he died of Pneumonia and the funeral was held with the casket closed; it would not do for such a respectable family to have the truth of its dark secrets revealed. The truth closer to home was that he was a thug like their father and had crossed the wrong people in yet another dodgy deal gone wrong. Didier was found dead in Père-Lachaise cemetery not far from Balzac's grave; what had been done to him was unspeakable. 'The closest to greatness that bastard will ever come,' Erszhebet had thought with uncharacteristic sarcasm and a curious emptiness during her brother's burial at that same cemetery a week later. _

_She felt a slight tingling and gentle pushing sensation in her head; 'Oh chérie, what have they done to you? So jaded at a time when you should be innocent of matters such as these; so young and yet so tormented..' _

_The thought was not her own and it was a testament to her perceptiveness and innate understanding of the supernatural that Erszhebet realized it so early on. The experience left the solitary and sad 9 year-old with a slight headache. As with most gatherings, she was shoved to the rear and ignored. She rubbed the space between her eyebrows, wanting not only to know who dared to consider her, but also how and why he invaded her 'air space'._

_It was this innate understanding, intelligence and curiosity combined with her almost unnatural imposing presence that was, in fact, the driving force of her family's abusive__ behaviours__ towards her (not that any of them actually cared). Driven by instinct, Erszhebet looked around at the strangers walking by and other parties gathered nearby for burials. What she was looking for, she was not sure. This odd quirk of hers, and others yet to emerge, would set her apart from others in her milieu and would continue to do so as she became a young woman._

_She did not notice him that day, but he certainly noticed her. With the proper guidance, she could have discerned him almost immediately. 'She does not belong with them,' he thought, 'She doesn't even look like them or feel like them'. He would never ever forget her. Even now, many years later, his mind wanders on occasion to that__ sombre__ day and that extraordinary little girl completely oblivious to her true abilities and a destiny not yet unleashed regretting that he could not directly intervene. 'Out of the darkness her light will emerge perhaps to save us all'. Of this, he was most certain, as much as he tends to be certain about all things concerning her. _

_She was not to know of this for some years yet, that she did indeed have a Guardian Angel of sorts watching over her. _

_**xxxOOOxxx**_

_As the years passed by things did not improve at home. Erszhebet had been astute enough at a young age to realise that education was the key to her escape. She loved her lycée, and surprised even herself by managing to get good marks in most of the required subjects in preparation for the Université Paris. While others her age were contemplating high school dances Erszhebet was focused on her future. She had a particular interest in astronomy, but loved the arts even more. One way or another – she was going to escape and never look back._

_A music composition class, and the music professor, profoundly changed her life and influenced her desire to be a singer/songwriter rather than an Astronomer, but true to form, she continued with her studies even though she was starting to make a name for herself singing in clubs despite being underage. Only she and her professor, Jean-Hughes Gaumont, knew the truth of her age. _

_Jean-Hughes could not help himself; he fell in love with Erszhebet at first sight. He had never believed such a thing was possible until he met her. But there it was and it could not be denied. She just had that something special about her and he really wanted to get to know her. They had many conversations about art, music and politics. It just seemed that he could talk to her about anything and everything and just be himself. He looked forward to seeing her every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon for her class with him because it would be her last class and they were bound to have some time together just talking. _

_Eventually they ended spending quite a bit of time together out of class in and around campus. He would conveniently run into her, mostly in the Library, and a quick hello always spiraled into an hour or more. Whom was he kidding; when he was not in his classroom or office he was hoping to see her. Even if was just a minute or two, he just wanted to be with her. Jean-Hughes loved her as much as anyone could from afar and truly believed in her and encouraged her with her music._

_As much as it hurt, he was always professional with her; she obviously was not like any of the other students, but he could not overstep the mark. He had his job to think about, but it was becoming more difficult with the feelings he had for her. He was acutely aware that she was only 17 years old, even though she had a wisdom, maturity and natural intelligence that belied a very old soul indeed. Had Erszhebet been older there would be no question that he would pursue a romantic relationship with her if she wanted it. She was remarkable in every sense of the word. _

_However, she was holding back somewhat. Jean-Hughes spoke freely here and there about his family and childhood. Erszhebet never acknowledged hers in any way. When Jean-Hughes broached the subject, it was as if an invisible barrier came up between them. The light in her eyes literally dimmed and sadness, dare he say it, a despair washed over her. 'There is nothing to tell,' she would say and quickly change the subject._

_For her part, Erszhebet was very attracted to him. She had fallen in love with him, but it would have never occurred to her that he felt the same. She just chalked it up to Jean-Hughes being nice. He was very kind, even to people whom did not deserve it. However, he was no pushover. Anyone who thought that was a fool as some of his students found out to their detriment. _

_Nonetheless, there was an amazing chemistry between them. Erszhebet loved his sweetness, his passion for music and the arts, the intellectual discourse between them. She forgot their ages when she was with him and she knew innately it was the same for him. She relied on her perceptions and knew she could trust him implicitly. She loved the way his eyes twinkled at her and the shyness of his smile. He had lustrous dark shoulder-length wavy hair and beautiful green eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses he wore. At 6ft 3' he was perfect. He was truly remarkable; a beautiful soul inside and out. _

_She held back from reaching out to touch him, so strong was the desire. But, she did not want to spoil things or drive him away by bringing the abuse from her family that she had to endure into their friendship. It had always been hard for her to have friends. Her family tainted everything else; they would not poison this. Jean-Hughes was a good friend to her; and she cherished him immensely. However, Erszhebet was not brave enough to tell him so. Friendship indeed; it was more than that and deep down they both knew it. _

_They could sit in silence also, just enjoying each other's company while she worked on projects for extra credit. Not that she needed the help with her marks. Most students couldn't be bothered, but Erszhebet Bathory was not one to just get by when it came to her achievements and Jean-Hughes respected her immensely for it. He encouraged her in all that she did and helped her as much as he could when she asked. It was not in her nature to ask for anything, but Jean-Hughes would come to Erszhebet for help as a sort of teaching assistant so it was slightly easier for her to respond in kind. _

_One night after classes had ended he purposely ran into her in a quiet corner of the Library. On a Friday night one could be guaranteed some peace as so few students were on campus at this time. He was not sure if he should approach and debated with himself for 10-minutes before plucking up the courage to go over to her. Erszhebet greeted him with a soft 'Bon soir' and looked pleased to see him. _

_She was. She found herself missing him on the days she did not have his course. 'It's Friday night for god's sake woman,' he teased, 'shouldn't you be out letting your hair down,' he said, gently touching her the twist at her neck. _

'_I can say the same for you too mister' she laughed, 'Professors are allowed to have a life, yes?' Erszhebet looked down at her scattered music charts and astronomy notes. 'Surely there is someone waiting for you to trip the light fantastic,' she said softly without guile. _

_Jean-Hughes could not help himself; he gently tilted her face towards him and said softly, 'no one, not yet as much as I would like there to be.' He couldn't believe he had just done that; but the deed was done. He could not turn back now._

_Not usually one to be lost for words, Erszhebet did not know what to say to this and could only look at him. Her lips and her voice trembled slightly as she stood up stuffing her things into her bag in a panic. 'Don't tease me Professor, please don't.' she said with a quiver in her voice. _

'_Never, and its Jean-Hughes now chérie,' he said softly and took her in his arms holding her close. He could not help himself but to kiss her; softly at first and then passionately when he felt her respond in kind. Jean-Hughes pulled back briefly and looked into her eyes. _

'_You know how I feel about you,' he said, 'I know, I know you feel the same way too.'_

_They stood there holding each other, neither wanting to be the first to let go, neither wanting this moment to end. _

'_You have too much to loose', Erszhebet said mournfully looking down at her worn-out shoes. 'You would regret it and hate me and I could not bear it.' _

'_Beth, its killing me don't you see? Have you any idea how much I have agonised over this; loving you and wanting to be with you. I have never been in this situation before, but there has never been anyone like you before, ever! I don't want anyone else and I don't care anymore about how old we are!' _

_This was quite a revelation for a man of 32._

_Jean-Hughes sank onto the sofa nearby, cradling his face in his hands, weeping from the depths of his soul and not caring what she thought of it. God, how she got to him on so many levels. His use of an affectionate name for her had touched her more than he could ever know. _

'_Jean-Hughes,' Erszhebet said softly kneeling down in front of him and taking his hands in hers again, 'It's the same for me; it has been for a long time now. But, I need for you to think about this because there is a lot you simply don't know about me. You think too much of me and don't have the slightest idea about...me.' Her eyes started to well up; she was desperately trying not to cry, desperate not to completely loose it._

_Jean-Hughes looked her in the eyes, wiping away the tears that had started to fall. 'Oh yes, I do. Do you remember the day I drove you home? I had a feeling you would have me leave you some distance away only for you to walk the rest of the way so I wouldn't see where you live. I shouldn't have done it, I know,' he said, swallowing hard, not wanting her to hate him, not wanting to loose her._

'_But you, you hold things back and it's hard for me Beth. I needed to know why you never talk about your family, your neighborhood. Never so much as a word from you about any aspect of your childhood. I saw it, chérie, how they treat you, more than just the once, and I hate it; I hate knowing every night that you have to go back to that,' Jean-Hughes was breathing rapidly and he spit the words out in a heated rush. _

'_I saw that, that man and what he did and I hate myself for not doing something about it. I could kill him, he is supposed to be your father for Christ's sake and your mother – what kind of mother would let that happen to her child?! Don't you see?? That's partly why I want to keep you with me, even if it is just the Université, because I love you and I can't bear what that scum does to you!' he said his face filled with fury. _

_The idea of those people made his stomach burn. When he thought of what he had witnessed he wanted to vomit. It was a testament of her character, he thought, that she was as accomplished and together as she was. Her family did not support her efforts; they made her suffer even more because of them, and still Erszhebet kept on trying to reach her goals in spite of them. It was as if they were trying to beat the strength, talent and determination from her. She did not have to tell him; he just knew._

_Jean-Hughes expected her to be angry, he had been spying on her after all, but instead Erszhebet broke down. All the years of holding back her tears and anguish came spilling out in a torrent. _

'_Please don't hate me,' she pleaded. 'I am sorry, so so sorry.' She got up and tried to run from him, Jean-Hughes caught her by the arm and held her close to him. _

'_Beth, my dear sweet Beth, you don't have anything to be sorry for, and you don't owe me an apology, ok? None of that changes what I feel about you or how I see you. Don't shut me out. To me, you are perfect,' he said gently, kissing her forehead and touching her hair which had come loose from its twist. 'Stay with me tonight, chérie, no strings attached – Mon Dieu, don't go back to those animals' he pleaded. _

_Erszhebet looked at him, thunderstruck._

'_I only wish I could,' she sighed after a moment's silence, relieved that there were no more secrets between them. 'My birthday is in three weeks, I can be a free woman then; the family wants me out and I have to be out in a month's time. If you don't change your mind about me, I want to be with you – because I love you and I want to be with you, not because I need somewhere to go. But there is still the not-so-small matter that I am your student my darling.' _

_Jean-Hughes was stunned into submission, holding her close. He had not ever believed within himself that she would want to be with him. Erszhebet kissed him passionately and could feel how much he wanted her emotionally and physically. Truth be told, each needed the other in their own way as much as each complemented the other._

'_The Library will close in 15 minutes' came an announcement over the sound system. 'Fiche le Camp.' _

_Jean-Hughes helped Erszhebet up from the sofa; they gathered their things and made their way to his car. He put their things in the boot of the car and glanced at his watch; 8pm. Still early yet. _

_He walked around to Erszhebet' side of the car and took her in his arms again. 'Oh, my Beth, he sighed softly, 'please don't make me take you there now'. _

'_I wont', she said 'But, I am going to have to change courses you know; I can't take classes with you anymore.'_

_Jean-Hughes face lit up, 'Are you saying…?' he asked hopefully. _

_She nodded her head, yes, and smiled. 'We will work things out, won't we?' she asked, suddenly looking worried. _

'_I want you to live with me Beth, and I want us to be together for the rest of our lives,' he replied. _

'_Take it easy, there is plenty of time for that!' Erszhebet laughed, not hiding her shock. Years later, she would look back on that moment, regretting having said those words. _

_They drove around, only stopping to pick up some food for a picnic, finally parking where they could look down on the whole of Paris, twinkling brightly in the darkness. Jean-Hughes turned off the ignition and got of the car going to the boot. Erszhebet waited for him and together they laid out a blanket and the food. Both were ravenous and they ate in silence. When they had finished and cleared up the remains Erszhebet stretched out on the blanket, arms up behind her staring up at the stars._

'_What are you thinking? You look so serious, so grave,' asked Jean-Hughes softly caressing her tenderly. She looked over at him, perched on his left side with his arm propping up his head. _

'_About you, about us,' she answered. _

_He looked sad, 'have you changed your mind then?'_

'_No, no way,' she replied. _

_Never had he seen her look so thoughtful and tender. Jean-Hughes leaned down kissing her deeply. The young woman that he loved leaned into him and their arms went around each other. She pulled him down so that he lay on top of her; their passion becoming more heated with each caress. They undressed each other, neither able to hold back any longer. Jean-Hughes felt Erszhebet move her hips against him and was shocked at the voluptuousness of her body, usually hidden under baggy clothes. It was a revelation.. _

'_Don't stop,' she whispered hoarsely, feeling how excited he had become, caught up in their passion for each other. _

'_My darling,' he moaned again and again as they pleasured each other in perfect synchronicity stopping short of penetration._

'_Oh, please,' she said pleading for release. 'Make love to me Jean-Hughes, I want you to so much,' she whispered. _

'_I will,' he answered, 'on your birthday; I want it to be right for you and proper, in a bed'. _

_Beth looked into his eyes while stroking his back, loving the touch of his skin. 'It will always be right so long as it's you,' she said._

'_Are you sure,' he asked gently._

'_I have never been more certain of anything in my life,' she whispered. 'And I have wanted this for a long time now, believe me…' _

_Erszhebet leaned into him again, pulling Jean-Hughes on top of her. She loved the smell of him, the hair on his chest, his touch, the weight of his body on top of her. Jean-Hughes was muscular, but with a perfect softness in the right places. He explored Beth's body with his mouth and she explored his. She was awakening to her sexual nature and she was glad that it was with him. _

'_Please…' she moaned bringing his mouth back to hers and then guiding him into her. Erszhebet wrapped her legs around him, and gave a sharp intake of breath and stifled a cry as he entered her, biting her lip through the pain. She trembled. Jean-Hughes was surprised; he'd had no idea that she was still inexperienced. He felt an awesome responsibility being her first and did not want to hurt her no matter how much he wanted her; she had been through enough and did not need anymore trauma, especially from him. _

'_I will stop, my darling if you want me to,' he said caressing the sweat from her face gently and withdrawing. _

'_All I want is you, please believe me,' she said pulling him close again._

_They made love passionately, finding their rhythm, neither wanting to stop, neither wanting it to end. It would always be this way for them. _

_They lay together afterwards; Jean-Hughes held Erszhebet and watched her sleep. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and she snuggled closer, sighing in her sleep. _

_In the morning, she would awaken in his arms and in his bed and and their lovemaking would begin again initiated by her. She would catch hell for being away all night even though they did not want her there. She could not win with them; damned if she did, damned if she didn't. From that moment forward, there was no turning back for either of them. Erszhebet was an important part of his life, and Jean-Hughes would not have given her up for anything or anyone. 'I will face whatever comes my way head on,' he thought. _

_**xxxOOOxxx**_

_Three weeks later Jean-Hughes found himself taking a late-night stroll; he was too wound up and restless thinking about his Beth moving in. He could not wait; it had seemed like her birthday would never come even though it was tomorrow. He had already cleared spaces for her and was looking forward to redecorating. Beth had changed two classes, one of which was his, to earlier times in the day. The Registrar did not ask for an excuse and Beth did not offer one. She now had Music Composition and History of Music with the head of the department _

_Most students tended to go for soft subjects as electives. Not Beth. She also had 5 classes instead of the usual 3 that most students got away with. All that and she worked. Jean-Hughes did not know how she did it. _

_He had been lucky, coming from a family that did not have to want for anything financially. He'd had a good childhood and upbringing; his parents encouraging his every ambition and hobby. 'It's so different for Beth,' he thought. He had witnessed for himself the brutality that she'd had to endure from her flesh and blood. _

_She had even run away once, she told him finally, sleeping rough for several months. In the end, she had no choice but to go back; social services was overloaded and anyway she desperately wanted to go to Université and have a decent life for herself. Because of her excellent grades, she won paid places to the Lycée and to Université. She never mentioned it again after that and he let the matter lie. He knew everything now, he thought. She was being rather mysterious about her new job though, saying she had a surprise for him but wanted to wait a while yet until she was confident she was doing fine and would keep it._

_Hearing the pandemonium outside as he walked past, Jean-Hughes impulsively stopped in a local club in his near his house in the __14ème of Montparnasse__ before calling it a night. In the 3 years that he had lived nearby not once had he ever ventured inside. He stopped at the bar and ordered a drink. 'What's going on?' he asked the Bartender. 'It sounds like a riot outside.'_

'_We have this new group that has been here for the last week or so – the girl fronting the band is unbelievable. You have to see it to believe it; never seen anyone like her before,' said the Bartender. _

_As he was there, Jean-Hughes thought he might as well. After a couple of drinks he made his way to the main hall. From out here it sounded fantastic. __But the lyrics were dark; very very dark. 'That is someone who is either very in tune with their dark side or has really suffered,' he thought. __'Beth would love this.'_

_He went through the large, rather theatrical doors and made his forward wanting to get closer; not noticing the stage at first. He finally looked up when he was as close as he was likely to get, __and was stunned to see that it was Erszhebet on stage. _

_He could not believe it. He moved towards the stage slowly, as if sleepwalking. _

_The audience was enthralled, captivated by her voice –impressively strong and powerful and her sheer presence. Beth was a natural performer and put all of herself into her music. She sang songs that were mainly pop; but there were definitely other influences from soul and world music. _

_The audience had been hers for a breathtaking 2 ½ hour set. He stared at her, open-mouthed. He just could not believe it. The stage presence and raw power that Beth radiated washed over them all. Her songs impressed Jean-Hughes – a couple them he recognized lyrically she had been working on for his exams. He had never heard her sing before and had tried to get her to sing for him. 'Not yet, I want it to be perfect when I do.' she would say. _

_Nevertheless, he knew what she was capable of as a songwriter having had the pleasure of her compositions for his class. Some in the music department were fascinated that she was not majoring in Music. The vocal master raved about her during the departmental meeting last week, so convinced was she of Beth's talent. That was saying a lot, as the vocal master generally was not complimentary about her students who were actual music majors and pushed them very hard although not hard enough as far as she was concerned. Now Jean-Hughes understood why the master was mad about her. He had only experienced one aspect of her musical talent so far whereas the others were seeing more of the whole package due to the nature of their classes. What a package it was._

_Jean-Hughes edged his way forward until he was just in front of Beth, two rows back from the stage. Beth's eyes were closed and it was if she was filled with the Holy Ghost belting out her dramatic soul-influenced ballad. She was not holding back, completely oblivious to her audience, putting everything she had into her performance, her whole body and arms going wild, she was not one to just stand there singing into the mike. Beth set the stage on fire. This was an audience getting far more than just their money's worth. _

_Jean-Hughes fell in love with her all over again, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotion coming from Beth and her audience. The confidence she exuded was not something he saw easily from her even in her private life. Jean-Hughes was seeing a different side of her and liked it. 'She is really coming into her own as a young woman,' he thought. She was growing into a beautiful woman and there was this sense of being a part of something almost magical._

_Erszhebet opened her eyes, and was shocked see her lover in the audience. _

_If she was worried in that moment, it never showed. She had wanted to feel more confident about her performance and her songs before she sang in front of him, worried that he might hate it. Beth caught his eye and, having consulted her band, then introduced her final song of the night. Her hands were trembling. _

'_This is for someone special I was not expecting to see here tonight;' she began._

'_Lucky Bastard!' shouted someone from the audience. The audience roared. _

'_I had planned to sing this for him as a surprise once I had 'tightened the outfit,' she continued softly, gesturing to the band and giving a lascivious wink and smirk. The audience roared. 'But, since he is here now here is a song about regrets and not having them. I love you Jean-Hughes.' _

_The audience went crazy, many wondering who the hell this lucky bastard was._

_Jean-Hughes could only stare at his lover, completely awed and humbled by her; e__verything seemed to fade out around him until there was just him and Erszhebet. In that moment, everything and everyone else ceased to exist._

_The stage lights were dimmed. Candles had been lit while Erszhebet spoke. Members of the audience flicked their cigarette lighters, their flames adding to the ambience. A soft spotlight shone on her; the venue was awash in an eerie red light as she sang the haunting tune._

_The was a moment of silence when she finished before club erupted into rapturous applause, screams and shouts. They were stomping on the floor and pounding fists on tables. They wanted more._

_When Erszhebet finally left, it was 1am and she was exhausted. She simply could not go on._

_Jean-Hughes was waiting for her outside of the stage door, tears streaming down his face, like many in the audience. 'Ma chérie, if I would have any regrets; it is that I did not come to you sooner. Having you with me and showing you for the rest of our lives together how much I really do love you with all my heart and soul is the most important thing to me, please believe it and accept it.' _

_She took his hands in hers, kissing his palms, then his mouth. 'Let's go,' she whispered softly, putting her arm around his waist as they walked to his car, talking about the show. Erszhebet was so happy; Jean-Hughes had really loved it and wanted her to go for it if performing is what she really wanted to do. He was behind her all the way. Once the reached the car they stood against it for a while, kissing each other passionately. _

_Erszhebet pulled away momentarily, 'You know, this has one of the best nights of my life. I love you Jean-Hughes, I love you so much,' she said cuddling him again._

'_I know,' he said softly, stroking her hair, 'and I am glad that you can say it because I never get tired of hearing it my love.' For reasons of his own, Jean-Hughes needed to hear her say it._

'_Why don't we just go home now,' he said hoarsely wanting her so much, 'You can get the rest tomorrow; a quick stop in and out.'_

_Erszhebet was not going to argue – she wanted to be with him equally as much. 'Let's go to yours,' she said, 'and then we can get my stuff._

_Once they were in Jean-Hughes' house, Erszhebet forgot how tired she had been, the adrenaline wearing off. Jean-Hughes carried upstairs her to the bedroom. He held her in his arms after they made love, twice. 'Let's just stay here, forget the rest; we can get new things,' he said softly._

'_No,' she replied, 'I have to put and end to this. I need closure. If I just stay away I won't have it.'_

'_Chérie, please listen to me,' said Jean-Hughes pleading with her, 'I don't know what you are looking for, but you have to accept that you are not going to get what you need from that situation and just walk away from it. Walking away does not make you a failure. It's self-preservation here.'_

_Jean-Hughes was not getting it, she thought. Erszhebet sat up. 'Jean- Hughes you don't understand; if I just stay away it's like I am afraid of them or something and that they have won. I want to leave with my head high. I want to close the door knowing that that is it and I finally did it.'_

'_Merde Beth,' he said, not hiding the fact that he was angry, 'This is crazy! This is not a contest with winners and losers. What we want or expect we sometimes don't get! We cannot always have closure; trust me, it might a truth that is hard to bear, but it is a truth nonetheless. Sometimes you just have to let the bad things go and get on with your life, empowering yourself in the process.'_

'_So I should just be a coward, not be strong, is that what you are saying?' she asked bitterly._

'_Damn it, Beth, he said. 'Here is the truth: you are not going just off your own back under your own steam, you have been pushed. They don't want you; they have made that clear time and time again. Nothing you do will ever win their respect. You are getting your stuff because they have kicked you out! They could care less about you and anything you have to prove! If you ever have something to prove, let it be to yourself and no one else. Let it be for yourself alone and not any one else.'_

_There was a sharp intake of breath; Erszhebet looked like she had been punched. She got up and ran into the bathroom sobbing. They had never argued before. They'd had disagreements, yes. But never really argued like this._

'_Oh hell,' Jean-Hughes muttered to himself. He went to the door, 'Beth, please we have to talk about this.' She needed to face the facts; he was sorry if he had hurt her. But it was the truth and she needed to hear it. He could hear her sobbing. 'Beth, c'est fou they are psychopaths, nothing good would come of going there this last time. Come on chérie I love you; I don't want to see you hurt any more. Anything you don't have can be replaced no matter how long it takes. There is nothing to prove. You know that you are making something of yourself, you know that you have me and our future together.'_

_Silence._

'_Beth, I am afraid.' Another truth now. 'I am afraid of what is going to happen there and I don't like it. Please let me in.' More silence._

_After a while he heard muffled sobs from the other side of the door and the lock turning._

_Erszhebet looked up at him, eyes and face red and puffy. She looked so lost and vulnerable. Jean-Hughes led her back into the bedroom and held her. 'I love you; I am sorry if I hurt you. I didn't mean to,' he said._

'_I know,' she replied. 'It hurt to hear that because I know that you are making a fair point even if I don't like it; but I have to go; I have to do this for myself.'_

_Jean-Hughes let out a deep sigh, 'Ok, its up to you. I will do whatever you want my love.' Erszhebet was digging her heels in against all reason and he was too tired to argue any more._

_Beth looked at the clock on the dresser. 3:30am. 'We better get going,' she said._

_**xxxOOOxxx**_

_Jean-Hughes drove her to her family home; or rather half a block away from it. 'I will be alright,' she said. 'Not too far to go.' She hugged him tightly and kissed him goodnight. 'Tomorrow, then,' she said with a faint smile. 'Oops, it is tomorrow.'_

'_I can't wait,' he replied. 'Let me pick you up.' Jean-Hughes was determined to have some words with Erszhebets parents since she was going back this one last time. She knew this all too well. Nothing good would ever come of it if he tried._

'_No, I don't have that much stuff left. The Mètro will be fine.' Erszhebet had been sneaking things out of the house for the past few weeks to Jean-Hughes'. Her things for Université and sheet music included. She spent so much time there that he thought she might as well. All she had left to bring now was one small bag of clothes in the downstairs cupboard by the front door._

'_I better go; get it over with,' she mumbled as she closed the car door. Erszhebet was expecting a fight. The family wanted her out, but she was certain they would not make it easy for her to leave. They couldn't just let things go where she was concerned._

_Jean-Hughes could not help it; he got out of the car when she was a bit up the street and followed her quietly at a discreet distance. No matter what Erszhebet was telling herself, Jean-Hughes knew better. It was too easy for them to forget the age gap, but in this case his age and experience gave him a wisdom that he felt was still relevant. Regardless of how mature Beth was she still had a lot to learn, despite her rough start in life. Her family was more dangerous in more ways than one than any maniac that would be out in the early morning hours._

_Erszhebet walked slowly; she was not in a rush. 'Just a few more hours and that is it,' she thought. She had just made it into the sitting room and turned on a lamp when her father jumped up from the sofa and grabbed her by the arm. 'Where have you been! Who do you think you are coming in at this time of night' he roared, an inch away from her face. She could smell alcohol._

'_What the...? It's because of you that I stay out as I do! I hate you, all of you, and I hate this shithole!!' she shouted. 'What I do and where I go is none of your business!!' She was on a roll, not able to stand any more._

_Her father was livid, 'Don't you dare raise your voice to me! You think you are something special, think you are better than us, don't you! Walking around like you own the place' He back-slapped her hard, wrenching her neck and causing her nose to bleed. She stopped herself from falling, her head pounding from the pain.!_

'_Come on, smart girl, come on. Oh, I am not stupid. You take me for a fool coming in here at all hours like you are God's gift.' Her father grabbed her as she pulled back from him and caught her shirt; some of the buttons flew off._

'_Don't you dare touch me ever again, I've had it, I have had enough!' she screamed. She called him every name in the book she could think of. All of a sudden a vase flew at him hitting the wall, but clipping his head. But, Erszhebet had not picked it up. In this moment she discovered another gift, telekinesis. All of the torment she had suffered over the years came out in a flurry as her mothers display cases filled with tacky bric-brac exploded, shattering glass and porcelain everywhere. She stood there in shock; she had not touched them. Not one._

'_You. Little. Bitch,' her father roared, launching himself at her. Shocked and outraged by what he had seen. He fell to the floor as she moved out of the way tripping him up. 'You freak, you monster!' he shouted. 'I will make you sorry you were ever born!'_

_BAM!_

_Just then the front door slammed open. A stunned Erszhebet watched as Jean-Hughes ran into the room and pulled her father up; punching him in the face. Stunned, her father got up again and Jean-Hughes knocked him unconscious. Her father was not moving._

_Erszhebet heard her mother and brothers stirring upstairs. They wouldn't get involved if it were just her; but with someone else. Well, that was different. This brought her back to her senses. 'Please, Jean-Hughes, please we have to get out of here,' she pleaded with him taking his arm. Jean-Hughes had been right; her pride would not let her see it._

_Jean-Hughes shouted at them all, using language that was a revelation for someone rarely swore. _

'_I hope you all burn in hell,' he screamed finally. 'Come, chérie, you will not spend another minute in this madhouse!'. He looked at Erszhebet with such a look of fury and venom on face that she had no doubts that she would not._

_They heard a noise. Her brother Anton was in the hall. He was holding a gun, fussing with it. The moron couldn't even use it correctly. Erszhebet almost laughed, but this really was no laughing matter. Jean-Hughes did not hesitate; he picked up one of the brass candlesticks from the sideboard and hit Anton in the arm with it, sending him sprawling beneath the staircase. The gun went off, shooting her brother in his leg. Erszhebet and Jean-Hughes ran from the house, down the street and jumped in the car oblivious to the neighbors who had come outside to see the latest goings-on with those crazy Bathorys. Not that their homes were any less crazy you understand; it was that kind of neighborhood._

_When they were some ways away, he pulled over. Erszhebet was crying silently, tears streaming down her face and shaking like a leaf, relieved that she was finally gone from the place. 'I'm so sorry, so so sorry,' she sobbed over and over again._

_Though Jean-Hughes had been right, this was not a time for "I told you so." They had been through enough for several lifetimes. He pulled her into his arms and held her in a tight cuddle. 'Shh, It's ok, it's alright now; you are not alone any more to face things by yourself, please get used to it. They won't hurt you ever again; so long as there is breath in my body I swear it to you.'_

_**xxxOOOxxx**_

_Erszhebet officially moved into Jean-Hughes' in the dawning hours of her 18th birthday. She did not care about the few things that had been left behind. They could be replaced easily. She should have faced that truth before, but hindsight is always 20-20. Jean-Hughes arranged it so that she was given time off from her classes due to illness and he took some holiday time to be with her and take care of her. They both needed to recover from the experience._

_Erszhebet decided to let things lie where Jean-Hughes was concerned. Her supernatural gifts were not something she would ever disclose to him. She was still coming to grips with what had happened, but was scared that she would lose him if she revealed to him everything that had happened that night. She had read about these things and did have more than a passing fascination with the supernatural, but those were other people and other situations. _

_It was not right to have secrets, but rather that than risk losing one of the few people in the world who had ever shown her genuine kindness or loved her._

_**xxxOOOxxx**_

_A year later Erszhebet and Jean-Hughes married in the village church near his parents country house in the Loire Valley with their friends and members of his family present. She was a beautiful bride and looked glorious and happy. Everyone agreed; if ever there were two people who were meant for each other it was Jean and Beth. _

_Jean-Hughes' family welcomed her warmly after some initial trepidation because of her age and because they had not had that much time to get to know her. They were even starting to broach the subject of grandchildren. The couple had the full support of their respective departments after jumping a couple of hurdles. They could relax now, since there was no worry about Jean-Hughes' job._

_They settled into domestic life quite easy after a peaceful 3-week honeymoon in Florence and Venice. Things were going well for them both at the Université. They had a small circle of very good friends and socialized often. They also spent cozy nights in just enjoying each other's company. _

_Life was good and uncomplicated. Erszhebet was not used to this; but after a while she had managed to put her troubled past behind her. To see them in the street they were like any young couple happy and in love with their whole lives ahead of them_

_**xxxOOOxxx**_

_  
Two months after her marriage Beth's life took yet another fateful turn. She did not have classes that day and was not going with Jean-Hughes as she usually did to the Université. She saw him down to their front door in her robe; giving him a passionate kiss and hug goodbye._

'_You know, the best part of my days now is coming home to you,' he said, kissing her. He put his backpack down and held her close, kissing her neck and stroking her hair. She smelled so good._

'_Mmmmm, stay,' she said, wrapping her body around him. She pulled him over to the sofa and pushed him down, 'Call out sick, they can get a Proctor to give the exam'._

_Jean-Hughes pressed his forehead to hers looking her in the eyes; 'Are you trying to tempt me you little vixen,' he teased._

'_I have already done that, and quite well too, don't you think?', she said softly with a wink, having undone his shirt and pants. It was obvious he wanted her as much as she wanted him._

_Jean-Hughes chuckled; it was so unlike Beth to consider such a thing, conscientious as she usually was when it came to any of their responsibilities and being on time. Throwing a sickie was not usually an option, no matter how badly either of them were tempted. He looked at her closely; Beth seemed a bit pale. 'Are you ok, chérie?' he asked gently, lifting himself off her a bit and touching her cheek._

'_Oh, its nothing. I am just feeling tired, run down. Think I might be coming down with something,' she replied. She did not want him to leave her, but could not explain why. She just did not want him to go. She wrapped her arms and legs around him again, looking up at him so intently it was as if she was memorising his face._

_Erszhebet kissed him deeply and Jean-Hughes could not help himself but to respond. God, how he loved her!_

_Jean-Hughes looked at her again, feeling her forehead. 'You feel warm', he said concerned, 'I'll call out and take you to the doctors.'_

'_No, I'll be alright, it's probably because I overloaded myself with classes and all of the gigging hasn't helped', she said, feeling guilty. 'Besides it's only a half day today, right?'_

'_Less than that,' he replied, 'I am only going in to give this one exam for Bonnet, damn him, and then I am home in 2 hours to take care of you'. He kissed her on the nose. She smiled at his thoughtfulness He was always so very good at taking care of her. They lay there for a moment losing themselves their shared passion again._

'_The sooner I go, the sooner I will be back my love,' Jean-Hughes sighed deeply reluctantly pulling himself off of Erszhebet. 'Damn it to hell, this is the last time I fill in for Bonnet. Next time he gets a Proctor, I don't care.' He gave her one last deep kiss and a cuddle, he could not help himself._

_They said their "I Love You"s and Beth went back to bed having locked the door behind him. As she drifted back to sleep she could not help but wish he would turn right around and come back home to her; she felt so safe and loved in his arms. 'I am the lucky one' was her final thought before going back to sleep at 8 am._

_Less than an hour later, Erszhebet was a widow. She slept fitfully and sat bolt upright shouting her husbands' name, hardly able to breathe in her panic. It was 8:42am._

_Jean-Hughes had just gone onto the motorway, humming along to a cassette of Erszhebet's and daydreaming about his wife whom he loved so much, when a large slab of concrete went through his windshield, hitting him in the head and causing him to lose control of the car. He went over the verge and died instantly in a head-on collision with a lorry. It was 8:42am._

_5 hours later Erszhebet lost the child she had been carrying._

_Less than a month later, she left the Université never to return._

_The culprit was never found._

_She would always blame herself for what happened to him._


	3. His Dark Materials

Plot and new characters are my intellectual property

**Plot and new characters are my intellectual property. JK Rowlings' characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. The musical and cinematic inspirations are from the French legends that are Mylène Farmer and Laurent Boutonnât. **

**Summary: **Some years after the defeat of Voldemort, Severus Snape falls for a woman with a dark past of her own and must battle a greater threat than the Dark Lord. In the midst of this, he struggles with his own conflictedness and the complexities between the persona he has so cleverly crafted, his own personal demons and who he really is. He must also face battles with Harry Potter and Remus Lupin, but for very different reasons

**The Sleepers Awake**

**By NativeMoon**

**Authors Notes: **_**REPOST: This is the fanfic that started it all. I discovered fanfiction when I become homeless a few years ago. Working on this got me through many a dark moment. Its an epic that wasn't finished – but its also the one that I think the most about and which still inspires me. Its still up at Fiction Alley under this same PenName and its time to work on it again here. Some things will change simply because I hope that I have improved as a writer in all this time.**_** Still, I hope my dear readers will like it 8).**

**Chapter 3: His Dark Materials**

Erszhebet wiped the tears from her eyes; she would not spend any more time dwelling on those particular dark days of her past nor the events of last night. It was Saturday, the city was quiet and she was due for some quality time by herself; something which had not been in abundance recently.

After a hot bath she threw on an old pair of jeans and her favorite T- shirt; the one with the sepia imprint of three toddlers: two little girls in cute little dresses and a boy in a sun suit. They are seated on the top step of a staircase, probably a tenement similar to where she had one lived. One little girl sits in a corner scowling at the other giving the little boy a smooch. She felt an affinity with the little girl in the corner; she could feel isolated even in a large group of people and it always seemed that other people had the life that she wanted for herself. She had bought the shirt for 12 at Limited Express in the mid 90's and was pleased that it still fit.

Erszhebet pulled her long hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and decided to go bare faced. 'God, I look like I death warmed over' she scowled as she looked at herself in the mirror. She topped off her casual wear with a pair of rather expensive penny loafers without socks as she distained having to wear them let alone shoes. She loved roaming around her house barefoot and love summer days when she could slip on some cooling and comfortable sandals or flip-flops.

Normally, she would have phoned Patrick by now, trying to smooth things over even she had no reason to do so. It was easier for her to take the high road, she had thought, as he really was acting and reacting from insecurity. As she recognised his issues using her perceptiveness, she felt she had a moral responsibility not to lower herself to his depths in defense of herself.

Now she realized that that may be true, but all she was doing was encouraging disrespect and even more abusive behavior. To be fair, her relationship with Patrick was the only relationship that had been as negative as this. Still, she always seemed to attract more than her fair share of men who had considerable emotional or psychological blocks of some sort. 'A therapist would have a field day with me,' she thought.

Today was to be a day of her favorite pastime; shopping for books, art supplies and music. She left her loft on Christopher Street and headed towards West Broadway making her way towards Pearl Paints on Canal. Usually Erszhebet would have taken the time to fix her own breakfast; she was a reasonable cook and did not mind it. It was the cleaning up that she could do without.So making an inspired choice, she would instead having some breakky at one of her favorite eateries along the way. If she made an early start then she could be back within a few hours with the rest of her day to herself. 'That is if I don't get too comfortable in Borders bookstore,' she chuckled to herself.

Still on the kick of breaking out of her set routines she had a luxurious breakfast of thick Buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup, scambled eggs and bacon washed down with a pot of Green tea and some orange juice. Erszhebet took a different route than usual to get to West Broadway and headed towards Washington Square just off West 4th Street. It was a 15-minute walk at the most but the exercise would her good.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not only could not get his mind off the events of the previous evening; he also couldn't get over the fact that he just could not get over it and move on. This just was not like him and he did not like it. He sat in his hotel suite overlooking Central Park West on the 38th floor, looking at the rain. 'Some holiday, I may as well be in bloody Britain,' he muttered under his breath, trying to remember just why in the hell had he chosen this place.

Snape had barely slept last night and was tired. The accidental trip to Brooklyn hadn't helped. There was not a mind that he could not penetrate fully; until now. This young woman not only felt the Legilimens technique when Severus finally broke through, but then she had turned it back on him and a wave of... _what?..._almost overpowered him - through closed doors. That was not supposed to happen. It was impossible. Or did she? Severus was not entirely too sure just what had happened. She was not from the Wizarding world, of that he was certain. A fact that made this episode even more disturbing. 'Something is not right here,' he thought.

He needed some guidance on this. It was not often that Severus Snape conceded that he needed anyone's help. Now was one of those rare times. There was only one person who could help, who always helped; but they were on the other side of the Atlantic and anyway, Severus was to leave New York City for home tomorrow. The Potions Master reviewed his options. First, he would be back in the UK before an Owl got there, rested and and returned to him with an answer if there was one. Second, he didn't know anyone in the American Wizarding Community and had not taken care to note the equivalent of Diagon Alley here before leaving Hogwarts; as dangerous as that was in these times, so couldn't get an Owl anyway. Third, there were no fireplaces here so Floo Powder was also out of the question. Besides he would need the right type of International Floo Powder which he also didn't have. As it was, he was using a special Portkey from Central Park to get himself back to London and would Apparate from there to Hogsmead, the only entirely wizard community in the British Isles, not very far from the school but a serious walk nonetheless.

Still, there was no denying he was enchanted with the young woman from the train. Merlin's Beard, he had lost her anyway. All his queries and theories didn't mean anything without the subject to hand.

'Fucking pathetic and useless,' he thought, angry with himself. This was completely out of character for him when it came to the opposite sex. His admonitions to himself were not. Snape usually would not dare to be bothered. He had never really had so much as a one-night stand let alone a girlfriend. No, correct that; he'd had no intimate contact of his own free will.

The dark memories of those frightening times always threatened to break him; best to leave them buried deeply where they were. He had only managed it with the Headmaster' help. Now was not the time to have a nervous breakdown.

**xxxOOOxxx**

There had been only one time in his life that a young woman showed him attention and was good to him. Snape had ruined it, as he ruined everything else about his life. Severus' mind wandered back to his years as a student at Hogwarts and a lovely red-haired girl with brilliant green eyes.

_Lily Evans, though she was in Gryffindor and not Slytherin as he was, had always treated him kindly. But, he refused to accept her kindness and instead insulted her, calling her one of the filthiest names you could call someone in the Wizarding world. He insulted her over her non-Wizarding lineage and called her a Mudblood. Racism was not exclusive to the Muggle world._

_Lily was not born of proper wizarding stock as he was and as such was nowhere near to being a Pureblood as all Slytherins were thought to be. Then again, all pureblood families were related to each other by blood through any number of connections. There were so few pureblood families left that it was the only way to keep the lines going. But, all of that inbreeding made for some, ah, interesting quirks in some families; like the Malfoys, for instance. Lucious Malfoy was a sociopath and a sadist if there ever was one. And Malfoy's son Draco, a former student of Snapes, was definitely his father's son. The so-called 'pureblood' of most of these wizards in reality left a lot to be desired._

_Lily had been worth ten of them but hindsight is always 20-20. Snape had been abusive towards her, her kindness and her Gryffindor-ness. He would not allow himself to believe that anyone could care about him; that there could be anything about him or within him worth loving. He'd thought she was winding him up, setting him up. In retrospect, she had tried very hard to reach him. Lily had the singular gift of being able to see the goodness and love in everyone; even those who refused steadfastly to see it and believe in it in themselves. Remus Lupin, a great friend to Lily and the man she had married, had said that once - during a remembrance ceremony for Lily; how true it was. But Severus would not accept it from her._

_Lily gave up on Severus and Severus had given up on himself. She ended up going out with and then marrying James Potter, his arch-rival. Ironic, as there had been a time when Lily could not stand James; fellow Gryffindor or not. She had detested his arrogance and bullying ways. No matter; Severus had realized too late that he carried a torch for her, even after she married._

_Despite what most people thought, James Potter and his friends could be nasty pieces of work when they wanted to be. Even __Lily had seen that. There was an arrogance and foolhardiness that Potter, Sirius Black and their friends would never admit to and that the teachers of their day did not want to see. To this day, no one would say a bad thing about the man; James Potter was the equivalent of a Saint in the Wizarding world outside the circles of the Dark Lord Voldemort. But, Potter and his friends went out of their way to make Snape miserable at Hogwarts, as they did anyone they decided they didn't like. Being called 'Snivellus' by them had been the least of it._

_However, Severus gave as much and as good as he had to endure. Everyone knew Snape was a master when it came to the dark arts, even when he started Hogwarts. James Potter and his friends certainly had learned it. It was no small miracle that they had not all managed to kill each other, or at least be committed for life to St. Mungos Hospital or Azkaban Prison with all of the hexes and curses thrown; including the Unforgivables._

_Deep down, when Lily took up with James Potter Severus was hurt; he felt betrayed. A completely irrational response, but that was what it was for Severus. When Severus found out about her death at the hands of the dark wizard Voldemort, he was devastated. He had been too late in finding out what Voldemort had in store for the Potters to save her. More than that; any essence of hope died that day with Lily Potter. Regardless, Snape blamed her husband for her death; Potter, his never-ending arrogance and his devil-may-care attitude._

_Severus was not jealous of James' popularity as such nor was he jealous because of his prowess at Quidditch. Everyone made the same mistake with those excuses when evaluating the rivalry between Snape and Potter, but they were wrong. James had Lily, her love and her child and Severus did not. Potter had the life that Snape wanted to have. Only once, after Lily's death, had Severus allowed himself to wonder about what might have been had he been a different kind of person._

**xxxOOOxxx**

No one ever knew about his feelings for Lily. A highly skilled Occlumens, Snape had buried those so deep that even he had difficulty with his own memories. Indeed, no one knew very much about him on a personal level. It was just as well. In the dark circles that Snape had traveled in under Voldemort, and still needed to for the Order of the Phoenix, that would have been dangerous; far too dangerous.

Potter and Black had always said that the only way Snape would get a woman is if she was deaf, dumb and blind or he had to pay for it. The truth closer to home was that Severus Snape would not allow himself the seeming luxury or inevitable pain of caring about or loving any one; nothing good would ever come of it. He could not love and he was not worthy of being loved. The more he told himself that the more he believed it and the more it became truth.

He willed it into being.

Snape never got over any of it. Whenever he looked now at James and Lily's son Harry, all the resentment, humiliation and rage came back to him. Harry looked like his father but had the same brilliant green eyes as his mother. Harry Potter reminded Snape of the many things he would rather leave hidden and unreachable in the shadows of his mind.

Had Severus been honest with himself, whenever he looked at Harry he saw the child that he never had with the only woman that had ever meant something to him.

**xxxOOOxxx**

In disposition, young Mr. Potter was more like his father than his mother and this did not endear him to Severus in any way. Snape was not apologetic; He felt that he was justified. Harry Potter, a.k.a. The Boy Who Lived, had survived Voldemort's attack while Lily had died.

Snape had a fearsome reputation that his harsh, unforgiving attitude and dark misdeeds had earned him. He made it impossible for anyone to know him or care about him. How could they, when he only revealed the darker aspects of his personality self to the world.

Besides, there really was not any opportunity at Hogwarts. The other Professors were either paired off with each other or someone from Hogsmeade. Snape was the exception. Everyone gave him a wide berth and he preferred it like that. None of the other staff interested him and a relationship with a student was out of the question. Deep down he did have a longing for something else; that something he knew instinctively was not going to be found in his immediate environment nor the circles he traveled in. He dared not give a name to that something.

There had not ever really been anyone else that he found interesting enough to want to get involved with, aside from Lily. But then, a lot had happened in his adult life that did not make the facilitation of a relationship easy or possible. He had been one of Voldemort's Death Eaters; not the kind of role that brings the women flocking in droves, mind, but a certain type of woman nonetheless. The kind he would not have touched willingly even if he had been paid to.

Consequently, at the age of 42 Severus Snape was inexperienced in true love, intimacy and affection.

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape's mind drifted back to the young woman from the restaurant.

_He had noticed her last night as she arrived with her companion at the restaurant where he had been dining. She had literally taken his breathe away. He was connecting with something deep inside her; what that was he did not understand._

_Ironically, the Maitre'D sat them at the table next to his. Mercifully he was hidden by some tall potted plants which were between the tables and could eavesdrop undetected. He had been shocked to see her choice of dinner companion. Tall, but bald on top; what hair the man had was so very fine; he may as well not have any. He wore glasses, thick old man's glasses and had a rather large beer belly. Judging the amount of alchohol the man was drinking he obviously loved his drink. He was not even what one would call cute let alone attractive. Some men were more attractive without hair than with. This was not an attractive man, hair or no hair._

_Snape listened to the conversation. The man droned on and on about himself, Muggle technology and then Muggle politics and throughout it all the conversation was always about him more than anything else. The man was obviously intelligent; but in an anorak-y, geeky sort of way. Snape detected an accent. Ah, he was Irish; filled to overflowing with blarney. 'He needs a blarney stone up his self-righteous, self-centred ass,' Snape had thought. The man was clearly at best a liar, at worst a fantasist. Snape was filled with loathing._

_The young lady offered up very intelligent and considered responses - when she was allowed to speak. All of which were dismissed by her companion. Her companion dismissed her as much as anything she'd had to say. She was obviously well read and liked a good discussion; there was a keen intelligence despite her choice of dinner companion._

_Snape could not for the life of him figure out what the attraction was and shuddered at the possibility that this woman had been intimately involved with this fool. There was something strange, something wrong about that relationship. Interestingly, she addressed her dinner companion as Patrick, but this Patrick never addressed her by name. Not once. 'The bald git,' Snape thought. He hated people like Patrick. 'A hemorrhoid up the ass of humanity,' Snape felt a sneer rising on his lips._

_Snape could not understand what a woman like her saw in a man like that. Snape perked up at the sound of her voice. Thankfully, she was not American, she was French. He thought of the loud American tourists that plagued Leicester Square in London with unnecessary noise, ignorance and litter. They seemed to take over the city during the summer months. Tourists; he could not stand them, but could not avoid them if he had business in the Capital. Then again, he could not stand most people; or so he told himself and everyone else. He always had what he thought were valid reasons why for anything and everything._

_Then the moron had turned abusive, banging the table, raising his voice. Had they not been in a Muggle establishment, Snape would have let that asshole feel the end of his wand for good measure. But good on her, Snape had thought, good on her for not having any of it and leaving him. This was a bit rich coming from him given the situation with Lily (Snape being Snape, he failed to register the hypocrisy of that thought). The young lady had done it with such finesse. At least she had some self-respect and dignity. Besides she could do better, of that he had no doubts. _

'_But where would that leave you anyway then, eh Severus, you wouldn't stand a chance! She would do better with anyone but you,' said the small voice deep inside him. _

_His conscious was a right bastard._

**xxxOOOxxx**

Snape sat on the sofa wearily and sighed.

_'Once a dark wizard always a dark wizard,' said the small voice inside him. 'No, no I'm not,' answered another._

'I. AM. NOT!' snaoe shouted as he lashed out and knocked a glass off of the coffee table. A battle raged inside him as it always had since he'd left Voldemort. Severus knew what he knew and he was not going to feel guilty about it. He had seen the error of his ways with Voldemort; but still had a rather keen interest in the Dark Arts. It was common knowledge at Hogwarts. In the Wizarding world, it was dangerous not to know the Dark Arts. One had to for self-defense. The Headmaster once told him that it was not the knowledge one had, but rather the choices one makes that was the mark of dark or light. There was something to be said for that, Severus had conceded, after defecting from Voldemort. It was not what you knew; it was how you used it.

_'I need to get out of here,' he thought to himself._ His hotel suite felt oppressive and he opted to go for a walk. The Subway was around the corner from where his hotel was and without thinking about it, Severus Snape found himself on the same platform as last night, but on the opposite side. In taking the express train rather than the local service of last night it wouldn't be more than a 10 minute journey. He didn't know why, but he was headed downtown.

**xxxOOOxxx**

By the time Severus Snape ascended from the station at West 4th Street the rain had stopped. The sky was a bit overcast, but there was a hint of the sun. There seemed to be a lot more people about here in the Village than the Upper West Side. He started walking, not sure where he should go. He did not know it, but he was headed in the right direction. He was about to catch up with destiny, only 5 minutes away.

**xxxOOOxxx**

An arch loomed ahead. It reminded Severus of the Arch de Triomphe in Paris. As he drew closer he realised that that it was a small sort of park in the middle of a square. Different groups were here and there. Some were singing, some were debating. There were skateboarders and rollerbladers, Goths, Punks, Trustafarians (though he did not know that that is what they were); even the wealthy, the only ones outside of New York University who could afford Washington Square, were here. You name it, it was here; all types of people mixing and interacting. People were seated on the ground and on the walls of the large fountain in the middle of the park. There was not a park bench that was not completely filled. The place was one teeming mass of humanity.

Severus was so distracted by the sites and sounds on the square and in the park, that he was not minding where he was going.

BUMP! He had collided with someone and a bag had fallen.

Severus apologized in a distracted sort of way, without looking right away to see whom he was saying sorry to, he should have been looking where he was going.

A distinctive French-accented soft voice answered him back, apologizing in kind as she picked up her shoulder bag, bringing Severus down to earth with a stomach and heart-wrenching lurch. She had not been mindful either, distracted by the goings on in the park.

Having caught only the briefest glimpse of that beautiful face, Severus Snape was looking at the retreating figure of Erszhebet Bathory.


End file.
